by Elise Noble
CHAPTER 5 - IMOGEN
“EASY, TIGER.”
DREW steadied me with an arm around my waist as I stumbled against a chair and almost fell over again. This was starting to turn into an alarming habit around him, although since we were now in a bar rather than the gym, that sort of behaviour was marginally more acceptable.
Earlier, he’d patiently helped me to work the elliptical trainer, then given me tips on my form while I struggled with the weight machines. I realised at that point I’d been missing a trick—if this was the kind of man who hung out in the gym, I should have started going there months ago. All that time I’d wasted in bars and clubs…
After I’d taken a much-needed shower, I found Drew sitting in the reception area, his blond hair damp and curling over his collar.
“Are you waiting for somebody?” I asked.
“Yes. I mean, uh, hopefully. You.” He stumbled over his words. Cute. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in going out for dinner?”
“Tonight?”
“No time like the present. Unless you’re busy, and then we could arrange another day. Any time you want. Unless I’m working late, but I usually finish by seven.”
Drew was a manager at a software company in town. Not a programmer or anything geeky like that—sales and marketing was his thing. He’d started off working at the head office in Maryland before transferring to Richmond last year to set up a new branch. A promotion he couldn’t turn down, he said, although it was tough starting again.
Didn’t I know it—when I quit Ohio and moved to Virginia, I’d felt utterly alone in the world. A psychologist would probably have told me that was why I took the job with Rubies—because, just for a night at a time, I felt wanted. But now I’d set my sights higher, and much of that was due to Stef’s belief in me. I owed her a lot.
And for me, dating a sales manager sure seemed like a step up. I mean, at least he had a steady job, and one that was legal.
“I’m free tonight, but I’m not exactly dressed for dinner.”
“You look beautiful.”
Really? My cheeks heated, not just because of his words, but because of the sincerity behind them. I was wearing the first thing I’d grabbed out of the closet, a navy-blue jersey dress, a wrap-around that tied at the side. I’d bought that style in four different colours because it was so comfortable.
“In that case, let’s go. Do we need a cab?”
“My car’s parked on the street.”
Another Mercedes, but dark red this time. Tasteful grey leather. And when he started the engine, soft classical music played from the speakers. I feared he might head for somewhere pretentious, but instead, he drove us to a cheerful Mexican joint where we made a mess with tacos and drank too many margaritas. Or at least, I drank too many margaritas. Drew had one and then switched to water.
When the pitcher was empty, we headed to the bar next door and danced until the early hours. I hadn’t enjoyed myself like that with a man for months, not since I accidentally went out with a slimeball who turned out to be engaged with a pregnant fiancée at home. Drew swore he was single. I’d asked him at least three times on the dance floor.
And now he hung on to me as I tried, and failed, to find the exit. One in the morning, and the bar was about to close.
“You’re not going to be sick, are you?” he asked.
“No, I’m fine. Good. Really good, actually.” I might have giggled.
“Do you want me to fetch the car? Or can you walk?”
“Uh...” I was supposed to be walking, wasn’t I? That was what gym addicts did. “I’ll do the feet.”
Two blocks felt like a marathon as I hung onto Drew, but I made it back to the Mercedes, and Drew strapped me in with my purse in my lap. This time, the quiet strains of Tchaikovsky helped me drift off to sleep.
“Hey, where are we?”
“Nearly home.”
“But I don’t live here.”
My apartment was in the city, but trees lined both sides of the road we were on, dark due to a lack of streetlights. My heart pounded as I tried to work out what was happening. Thump. Thump. Thump. How long had I been out?
“I thought we’d go to my place.” He reached over and laid a hand on my thigh. High. Too high. His fingers inched upwards towards my panties. “You said you were okay.”
I slapped his hand away. “Yes, I am, but not for that. We’ve only known each other for a few hours.”
The third date. I wouldn’t sleep with a man until the third date. That was the self-imposed rule I’d set six months ago. Sick of being used, I’d sworn that never again would I sell myself out the way I did at Rubies, that I’d get to know a man properly before I went to bed with him.
“We like each other, don’t we?”
“Yes, but...”
Did I like Drew? I’d thought so, but now I wasn’t so sure. Little beads of sweat popped out on the back of my neck as I realised he might not be everything I’d assumed.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Just take me home.”
“Sure, I’ll drop you back in the morning.”
“No, now!”
I made a grab for the wheel, but Drew gripped my wrist and twisted.
“Let go! You’re hurting me.”
“Are you crazy? We could’ve crashed!”
“Take me home!”
Gravel crunched under the tyres as Drew hit the brakes and pulled to a halt at the edge of the road. Now what? My breath came in sharp pants while he took a long inhale.
“Imogen, what’s wrong?”
“You’ve kidnapped me.”
“We’re on a date. You had a good time at the Mexican place, didn’t you? Don’t you think you’re getting a bit hysterical?”
Was I? I had enjoyed myself in the restaurant.
“I guess.”
“And then you fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake you to get your address. That’s hardly kidnapping. Now, can we carry on without you trying to kill us both?”
I really wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, and my head was so, so fuzzy. Maybe I should just go with him? That would be the easiest option, right?
“Okay.”
He flashed a grin at me, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “Good girl.”
Then his hand moved back to my leg, and he leaned across the central console. The moment his lips met mine, I wanted to vomit. How could I have been so wrong about him?
“Get the hell off me!”
“You want this. You know you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’ve been giving me signals the whole evening. Your hands were all over me in the bar.”
“Only because...because...” We were dancing. Where else was I supposed to put them?
“Just relax, all right? You were practically asking for me to fuck you.”
This time, he put his hands on my cheeks as he forced his tongue into my mouth, and his fingernails dug in as I tried to push him away. Shit, shit, shit! Even at Rubies, I’d never gotten into a situation like this one, mostly because I always stayed sober when I was with a client. Alert. Took precautions like letting Octavia know where I was and meeting in a hotel or a restaurant, never a dude’s freaking car.
Drew let out a yell as I bit his tongue and loosened his grip as I jerked away.
“What’s your problem?”
“What’s my problem? I said no!”
He shook his head faintly. “Crazy bitch. I sure do pick ‘em.”
“And you’re a sick freak!”
“Shut up!”
He followed his words with a slap hard enough to let me see stars. Combined with all the alcohol I’d drunk, the blow made everything fade to black for a second, and as my eyes flickered open again, Drew started the engine.
I scrabbled for the door handle, and pain shot through one of my fingertips as a nail tore off. But I got the door open and the seat belt off then landed on my ass on the hard-packed dirt outside.
&nb
sp; And what did Drew do? He laughed. He fucking laughed.
“Where’re you gonna go, Imogen? You’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“Just get the hell away from me.”
He reached over and yanked the door shut, and I choked on exhaust fumes as he roared off down the road. The only saving grace was that my purse had fallen out of the car with me, and I slowly flipped onto my hands and knees to feel around for the spilled contents. Where was my phone? I needed my phone.
“Stef?”
“Imogen? Is that you? It’s almost two o’clock in the morning.”
“I did something really, really stupid.”
“What? Where are you?”
Good question. The night air and the jolt to my spine had helped to sober me up, but I still didn’t have a clue.
“Sitting beside a road somewhere. I don’t know.”
“Can you use the GPS on your phone?”
“I… I…” A tear plopped onto the screen as I swallowed down a sniffle. “It’s all blurry.”
“What on earth happened? Are you okay?”
“I accidentally met another asshole. He left me here.” Now the tears came thick and fast. “I don’t... I can’t...”
Oliver’s voice came through the phone, muffled. “Tell her not to move. I’ll call Blackwood.”
That was it. Enough was enough.
Tomorrow, I’d join a convent.
CHAPTER 6 - IMOGEN
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, a car slowed as it approached. I’d retreated into the protective embrace of the overhanging trees to stay out of sight, because at that moment, I trusted nobody but my friends and whoever Oliver was sending to help me. Could this be my rescuer?
My phone buzzed in my hand—a text from a new number.
Unknown: Imogen, Sofia should be arriving any second. She’s driving a silver Prius. Sloane (Blackwood).
I sagged in relief when I realised they’d sent a woman to pick me up. And better still, she wasn’t driving a Mercedes. I’d never get in one of those again. They were a bad omen. I stepped forward to the edge of the asphalt, and sure enough, a silver car stopped alongside. The headlights illuminated the rest of the contents of my purse, and a twinge of pain shot through my back as I stooped to collect the scattered items.
“Let me do that.”
A dark-haired woman crouched alongside, picked up my pepper spray, and shook the canister.
“You didn’t use this?”
I’d forgotten I even had it. “No.”
“Keep it in the outside pocket of your purse, that way it’s always at hand. I’m Sofia, in case nobody told you.”
“Sloane mentioned it.”
“She’s organised like that. I hear you had man trouble?”
“I was stupid.”
“Takes two to tango, honey. You didn’t end up standing beside a deserted highway on your own.”
“He said it was my fault. That I’d led him on.”
“Tell me what happened.”
She helped me into the car, and only once we’d started moving did my trembles subside. Tell her what happened? Somehow, it was easier to talk to a stranger about the nightmare of the last week, this dark-haired, silent stranger who listened intently and nodded in the right places, never belittling me or judging. As Sofia drove, I spilled out all the horrible, messy, awkward details about Jean-Luc and Marelaine and Niles and Matthew and Drew, the remaining dregs of alcohol loosening my tongue, and I found a strange catharsis in sharing. I’d never gotten on with therapy, but perhaps it’d be a worthwhile investment after all? Goodness knows, I had enough demons to exorcise.
I was still talking when Sofia pulled up outside my apartment. I hadn’t given her my address, but it didn’t surprise me that she knew it.
“Will you be okay here alone? I can take you to Stef’s if you prefer. It’s only a few blocks farther on.”
“I don’t want to disturb her, not with the baby, and my roommate’ll be home.” My new, slightly odd roommate, Svetlana, who only ate green food and stood on her head in the living room for ten minutes every morning to get her day off to a balanced start. “And, uh, thanks for listening. I’m sorry to burden you with all that.”
Sofia patted my hand, and her fingers were oddly hot to the touch.
“Sometimes, it’s good to talk. And don’t worry—I’ll fix it.”
She’d what? “No, no, you don’t need to do anything. I’m off men for good. Unless a miracle happens and Jean-Luc asks me out, I’m staying single.”
And unfit. First thing tomorrow morning, I’d cancel my gym membership and spend the money I saved on movies and candy. If this week was any indication, being a couch potato was a far healthier lifestyle. Perhaps I could even save up for a new sofa?
“Honey, some men need to be taught a lesson, and Drew’s one of them. Jean-Luc needs educating too.” She climbed out and glided around to my side of the car. “I’ll walk you inside.”
“There’s no need—”
“Yes, there is a need. Get some sleep, and I’ll call you in the morning.”
“He did what?” Stef screeched. She still had a key, so she’d turned up in my bedroom at seven a.m. with coffee from Java and an expectant look on her face. “Your text said you were home and everything was fine. That is not fine.”
“I survived, okay? And look on the bright side—we don’t need to go barhopping this evening. How about we watch a movie instead?”
“Back up. Back up. Rewind. Drew can’t get away with what he did.”
“Now you sound like Sofia.”
“Sofia? That’s who came to collect you?” Stef perched on the edge of my bed and began twiddling the ends of her hair, a nervous habit of hers. “This just gets worse and worse.”
“What’s wrong with Sofia? She seemed nice.”
“Sofia’s a madwoman.”
“Are we talking about the same person?”
“My height, dark brown hair, ski-jump nose, kind of pushy?”
“I guess that description fits. Who is she?”
“One of Emmy’s close friends. How much did you tell her?”
“Uh, everything? She said she’d fix it.”
“Freaking hell. Drew’s a dead man.”
Right now, I didn’t see how that was a bad thing. “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a teeny bit?”
“No, he really is. Sofia was the one who kidnapped Gideon.”
“I thought that was Emmy?”
“She helped, but apparently it was Sofia’s idea.”
“Well, whatever she has planned, Drew deserves it. He abandoned me next to a damn forest. I could have gotten eaten by a bear.”
“We only have black bears near Richmond, and they’re mostly scared of people.”
“Okay, a wolf. Or a cougar. Or I could’ve died of hypothermia.”
“It’s summer.”
“Are you defending him now?”
“Of course not. I’m just saying that I know Sofia better than you, and moderation isn’t a word that’s in her vocabulary.”
“Good. I stand by my earlier comment.” My ass had a massive bruise, my head throbbed, and when I took a sip of my coffee, pain shot through my jaw where Drew had hit me. “Let her do her worst.”
Oh, if only I’d known what her worst would be. But at that moment, I was still living in blissful ignorance, so when my phone vibrated on the nightstand, I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Right, everything’s arranged,” Sofia said. No preamble. Not even a greeting. “I’ve found a guy to go to that cooking contest with you, but in return, you have to go to a thing with him tomorrow. He needs a plus-one. Bradley’s coming over with outfits at seven a.m. You know Bradley, right? Emmy’s assistant?”
Huh? My brain frantically tried to process her words, and all I could do was channel Stef. “Back up a second. What thing? What guy?”
“It’s a wedding, but his ex is gonna be there and they don’t get along so well anymore. He needs t
o prove he’s moved on.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Now I understood exactly what Stef meant. “I can’t go to a stranger’s wedding with a guy I’ve never met before.”
“Oh, but you have met him. Apparently, he prevented you from being arrested when you accidentally dated a drug dealer last year.”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure he was a drug dealer. He was just friends with a drug dealer.” Because that made all the difference when the cops were on their way to search the apartment I’d been sleeping in. Hazy memories of that night trickled back. Of a brown-haired hottie sent by Blackwood hammering on the door and driving me home in the middle of the night. “Wait. Do you mean Malachi?”
“So you do remember him? Good. Yes.”
At the time, I’d asked for his phone number, although I probably wouldn’t have been brave enough to call it. Malachi was way out of my league. Word came back from Oliver that he had a girlfriend, and I hadn’t thought about him since. Unless you counted the dirty dreams. I might have had a few of those.
“I can’t date Malachi.”
“You’re not dating him. Think of it as more of a business arrangement. He’ll be in Third Base tonight from seven.”
“Third Base?”
“It’s a bar downtown. You can meet him there to hash out the details.”
“But—”
“You want Jean-Luc, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Well, Malachi’s the perfect guy to help you get him. He’s trained for undercover work, and he’ll keep his hands firmly off. How are you feeling, by the way?”
“A little better. What’s happening with Drew?”
“Don’t worry about Drew. Seven o’clock. Third Base.”
She hung up, and I stared at the phone open-mouthed. What just happened?
“Was that Sofia?” Stef asked.
“How did you guess?”
“With that look on your face, it had to be either Sofia or Emmy. Nobody else inspires such bewildered frustration. What did she want?”
I gave Stef a brief précis of the conversation. At that moment, I longed to crawl back under the quilt, squash the pillow over my head, and sleep until Le Parade Des Chefs was over. My stupid pursuit of Jean-Luc had brought me nothing but trouble.